


What he remembers

by scifichicx



Series: All Those Yesterdays [1]
Category: Minority Report (TV 2015)
Genre: Character Study, Flashback, Gen, Short, Slight foul language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:05:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4926103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifichicx/pseuds/scifichicx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Character study and musing on the prodigal pre-cog, Arthur. Mainly dealing with his life from just after pre-crime, through to his arrival in the city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What he remembers

**Author's Note:**

> Partner piece from Dash's perspective: [All He Ever Wanted Was Peace](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4928764) by [estel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Estel/pseuds/Estel)

He remembers good things sometimes. 

He remembers warmth and easy existence in the shared space of the house. 

But usually he remembers nearly silent nights. A gentle tick of information bouncing from Agatha and Dash into his thoughts until sleep won out. Sometimes the old wood cabin would settle and creak. He thought of mines collapsing on unsuspecting workers and wondered if the idea was his or someone else’s. 

The worn and faded wallpaper turned into fresh paint and the ancient, turn of the millennium cabinets were turned into something that was theirs. 

It wasn’t enough. 

Sanctuary became prison as the months rolled on. Arthur had gotten a taste of the world through LifeTube and social media platforms and it only made him thirsty for more. Four walls and three people wasn’t going to satisfy him anymore. 

Conversations became clipped and his tone grew terse. Every passing moment set his mind pacing and scaling the walls. 

Silence became screaming; broken plates and slammed doors. 

He hugged them both when he left; gave Agatha a kiss on the cheek. The gesture was the closest he could manage to an apology.

He didn’t look Dash in the eye; the closest he could get to a very different kind of apology. 

She was right- he wasn’t ready. 

He remembers black eyes from misunderstandings, sleeping under a bridge and avoiding drone patrols. 

He remembers drinking too much and fucking too soon.

But mostly he remembers the deafening flood of a ticker tape of names, dates, numbers, and details that mattered to someone- 

-And the sensation of being free.


End file.
